The Nature of Ice
by MidnightWhisper7
Summary: Vexen trusted in the one thing which he himself was defying. But in the end, science would fail him.


**The Nature of Ice

* * *

**

I've always wanted to write something about Vexen, so here it is. The quote in the beginning is from "Good Country People" by Flannery O'Connor.

* * *

_"Nothing--how can it be for science anything but a horror and a phantasm?"_

* * *

For as long as he could remember, Even loved to experiment. He had an insatiable curiosity about the world around him, the way all the pieces fit together and created a self-sufficient, organic machine. He felt that he wanted to understand everything. Once he trapped a firefly in a jar and observed it for days, barely sleeping, watching its futile movements inside its glass prison until it died. That was when Even learned about death. Surely it was the greatest mystery of all, he thought. Finally his life had a goal. He would learn the secrets of death.

Fate and destiny didn't fit into Even's world, but by some strange chance he ended up as an apprentice to Ansem the Wise. It was a cold winter that year.

* * *

"And what if you fail?" she asked him frantically, clasping at the threadbare fabric of his coat. He pulled out of her grasp, gazing harshly into her eyes.

"I will never die, because _I will never fail._"That was the last time he saw her. He found the ring two days later, buried in the snow.

* * *

Darkness held an endless fascination for Even, because it was the first step toward death. Xehanort also intrigued him, like a puzzle to be taken apart and put back together in new and interesting ways. Even treated his new obsessions as experiments worthy of all his life's effort.

* * *

He failed, for the first time.

* * *

"What will you call yourself?" the man with the golden eyes asked.

"Vexen. I shall begin my research immediately."

* * *

He watched as ice curled like pale frigid vines across the snow-white skin of his hand.

His lips curved in a smile.

"Fascinating."

* * *

There were twelve others like him. It became a tradition that the new members were greeted with a black coat and an examination by number IV. Vexen discovered VIII's element when several of his most precious chemicals reacted after the man touched them. And XII was another problem, poking around and ionizing his solutions with the electricity on her fingertips. Eventually, Vexen just gave up the whole business, passing them on to Lexaeus. Number V saw the frost creeping across Vexen's temples and silently obliged.

* * *

Vexen realized suddenly, in the middle of a particularly tedious experiment, that he had already succeeded in his greatest experiment. Death was infinitely more boring than he had ever thought it would be.

* * *

Number XI came to him once, all half-concealed smiles and veiled eyes like nightshade. Vexen didn't trust him (although that was no change).

"They say you're the scientist."

"What do you want?" Vexen had no patience for neophytes.

XI stretched out his hands. A scythe appeared in one, and a bouquet of pink roses in the other. The man leaned against one of Vexen's examination tables, his scythe like a deadly flower at his side. Vexen had once read of plants that lived in the deepest tropical jungles and fed on insects that wandered into their hungry mouths. XI reminded him of those plants.

"Don't you know it's all pointless? Nature has no need of science. It has accomplished nothing."

"Do not speak of things you don't understand!" Vexen snapped. Ice began to creep up the roses' petals like cool glass.

The pink-haired man smiled. "You should tell yourself that."

Vexen threw a beaker at his head, but the man was already gone. It hit the wall and shattered into a hundred pieces, shimmering like ice on the floor.

* * *

"I'm intrigued by your choice of test subjects." Zexion appeared without a sound from the shadows, only seen and heard when he wished to be. The smaller man stood by Vexen's side, examining the form that lay on the table.

"He will soon be complete."

Zexion took a strand of the subject's silver hair in his gloved fingers. "Impressive. He is nearly exactly like the original."

"He is better than the original. He is perfect."

* * *

They were all useless idiots! Lexaeus and Zexion, who sat idle when they knew their superiority was being threatened. Sora, because he could not see the lies cast upon him by the witch-girl. Even the Superior, because he had not seen that all of this would happen. Vexen felt betrayed and cheated. He was the only one, it seemed, who still remembered what the Organization was striving for.

_I must take this into my own hands and right this foolish charade._

He could only hope that Roxas's memories were strong enough.

* * *

The betrayal came without warning. Fire, ever the enemy of ice--how could he not have expected it?"

"Now you can tell me I don't respect my elders."

The first time Vexen died it seemed like he was watching his whole life unfold through a dusty, cracked microscope. His graduation certificate, his favorite coffee, the smell of her perfume, a firefly in a jar. He had felt as though a vacuum had opened in his mind, sucking it all away.

Now he could think of nothing at all.

* * *

"He was a fool," Larxene said sharply, crossing her legs as she lounged on the couch. Marluxia took a book from one of the shelves (the faded lettering on its cover read _Macbeth_) and turning to face her. His hair always reminded her of rose petals; it was kind of disgusting.

"He trusted too much in something that he himself was defying." He opened the book, leaning against the arm of the couch. "Well, he should have expected I would have him killed. Ice always gives way to Spring."

"Poetic justice," Larxene said, and they laughed.


End file.
